


Completion

by Demibel



Series: History Repeats [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Grantaire finding happiness, M/M, Mainly fluffy stuff with some nasty bits mixed in, Morning After, Multi, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demibel/pseuds/Demibel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They woke up disoriented, squinting in the streaming sunlight. Lagertha worried for a moment that it had all been a dream, that she was really only Laetitia, the wife of Raymond, who were nothing more than mere French peasants, living a fantasy. But as soon as Grantaire opened those striking blue eyes, she knew in her heart that they were changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completion

They woke up disoriented, squinting in the streaming sunlight. Lagertha worried for a moment that it had all been a dream, that she was really only Laetitia, the wife of Raymond, who were nothing more than mere French peasants, living a fantasy. But as soon as Grantaire opened those striking blue eyes, she knew in her heart that they were changed. She was Lagertha, and he was Athelstan, and her husband, their lover, was Ragnar Lothbrok, a fearsome warrior and leader. She smiled and buried her nose into the crook of the smaller man’s neck, getting lost in the brown curls that had become too unruly in the night. “Good morning, madame.” He whispered softly, his hand running down her arm. Ragnar snored softly behind her and Athelstan could not help but chuckle.

“Good morning, priest.” She smirked against his pale skin, biting down on one of the bruises she had left earlier. “Shall we wake him or let him sleep for now?” Athelstan looked over and shrugged. “It would be cruel to wake him now, he looks so tired. Let us all stay in bed for a while yet. I’ve missed your body.” She looked up at him with a fond grin, pressing nude form against him further. “As I have missed yours.” He kissed her softly, seeming more at peace now than he had ever in his life.

He tilted his head, as if an odd thought had just struck him. “Do you have children? Bjorn, Gyda, are they here too?” He’d always cared for Lagertha’s children, even if he had never developed the same rapport with Ragnar’s other sons. Still, it would be nice to see them once more. Lagertha shook her head slowly, the corners of her smile turning down. “We’ve tried, Raymond and I. But nothing. No children. Perhaps the gods have greater plans for us and children would only hinder them. What about you, priest? Are there any women? Children you will be leaving behind for us?”

Athelstan laughed softly, shaking his head. “Plenty of women have come and gone, Lagertha, but none of them are you. I would not take them over you and your husband. Ever. And I hope no children. To curse them with my face would be a far greater sin than becoming a pagan.” Still, he didn’t mention Grantaire’s certain obsession with a particular man with golden hair and fire in his eyes. Lagertha reminded him of Enjolras, or perhaps it was the other way around. They both fought their own battles, and were stronger than any other man he’d ever met. He wondered what Ragnar would think of the Apollo. He’d probably make fun of him, such a small man leading such a small army was sure to leave the former Viking unimpressed.

“You were a good father to them.” The sudden statement snapped Athelstan back to his present. “I was hardly their father. An au pair, perhaps. A stand in for when their parents were too busy claiming land to feed them.” He smiled kindly, but the memories brought a certain sadness to his eyes. “They did love you. In their ways.” She pressed a kiss to his palm.

At that, Ragnar stirred awake, pulling his lovers closer to his broad chest, covering the back of Lagertha’s neck with tired kisses. “My love.” He murmured against the soft skin as a massive hand went to possessively squeeze Athelstan’s hip. “My priest.”

They laughed, but moved closer, allowing Ragnar to hold them close as he woke, slowly, like a massive bear coming out of its winter hibernation. “You two have been whispering without me for far too long this morning already.” He said gruffly, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Do you no longer find me important enough to speak with?” Lagertha turned to tuck herself into her husband’s chest. “I was only asking our lover if he was leaving many broken hearts behind to be with us. Our priest has grown into an established lover, my love. He’s had many mistresses, and learned a great deal. Far from the blushing virginal Christian you once brought home.”

Ragnar huffed out a laugh as the former priest felt his ears grow hot. Perhaps not too far from that blushing virgin then. The larger man stretched, arching his back with a loud grunt, before falling back into place. They spent the rest of the morning in bed, until a delightfully scandalous hour, relearning their bodies. Ragnar had his turn taking Lagertha in his mouth, while Athelstan sat back, unable to move as the others stroked him to completion all over Ragnar’s belly. They shared Lagertha between them, sandwiching her between their sweaty bodies until they were all crying out. The woman took the priest between her lips while her husband watched and fucked her from behind. They had each other every which way until their muscles were sore and the sun was high. And then, they shared a bath, soaking aching bodies in warm water, exchanging lazy kisses and murmured words of affection.

When their bellies were full and they were clean, they dressed, putting on their new personas for the time being. Laetitia and Grantaire would go back to the Musain with the other revolutionaries, and Raymond would return to work, make enough money for them to have bread for the night. Before they parted, they gathered in a tight, three person hug. Both Laetitia and Raymond held tight to Grantaire. “You’ll come back tonight. Promise us.” They murmured, and the cynic nodded, squeezing their hands and kissing their cheeks.

They parted ways for the remainder of the day. Laetitia spent her time with the other women of the Musian, the mistresses talking about their lovers, and the upcoming meetings. Grantaire received claps on his back from Courfeyrac and Bahorel, and the usual scorning glances from Enjolras, but he found the sting was not as great this time. Perhaps Grantaire was a smaller part of who this man was. The artist found himself lost in thought, rather than at the bottom of a wine bottle. Perhaps he was more Athelstan than Grantaire. And perhaps these Vikings, these people who loved him throughout lifetimes were what he had been searching for this whole time. Their absence was why he had felt so incomplete.

That night, he drank no wine, and took no opium when it was offered. But he did take Lagertha’s hand when the meeting was through, eager for them to get home and join their warrior for another night.

**Author's Note:**

> Still a work in progress, but I've got a pretty good idea as to where this is going and I am excited about all the positive feedback I've gotten so far! Thanks all!


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